


Never the Real Thing

by Vampykitty_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fights, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Substitution, Underage Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampykitty_kun/pseuds/Vampykitty_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t perfect, nor remotely what he wanted…</p><p>He could almost pretend, almost visualize that it was Bruce and not his son, and he was content for the time being.</p><p>The self-loathing that would result from it would come later...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cornflakepizza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakepizza/gifts).



Jason did not want to deal with this.

All he wanted to do was go home, collapse in bed, and be done with it.

But no, when was he ever that lucky? Never. That’s when.

Lucky birds don’t get beat within an inch of their lives with a crowbar then get blown up in a blaze lacking any sort of glory.

Lucky birds did not come back, wrong, get tossed in a pool of life and death and emerge with amplified emotions of pain, rage, betrayal… and a lethal cocktail of hate-love.

Lucky birds got to slip away, go home, and pass out from exhaustion. They did not have angry little _demon_ birds drop down before them, fists flying, just because they just happened to _off_ a target that said bird had been in pursuit of…

“TODD!”

Jason gave a mental count to ten as he blocked and dodged the fists and boots flying at his person, knowing full well that if he went ahead and slammed the teen into the ground, knocked him around a bit so he could escape, he’d have one angry Bat-Bird breathing down his neck and towering over his bed all because he dared hurt his precious not-so-little-anymore Robin.

It would be counterproductive. He just had to keep telling himself that.

“Geez, got your panties in a Twist Baby-Bat?” He snorted, despite himself. “He was nothing but a low-life drug dealing piece of _shit_ , and therefore my territory anyway. Don’t get so torn up about it. I’m sure Dickie-bird won’t doubt for a second that it was _my_ fault, so don’t worry your pretty hooded head about him.” He huffed ducking past a first, only to give a quick shove to the teen’s chest, causing him to flop backwards onto his rear.

Damian glared up at him through his lenses and bit back a snarl.

“That is beside the point you imbecile!” He hissed, flipping back up onto his feet. “It happened on _my_ pursuit. I am responsible, regardless of your interference.”

“Suit yourself kid. Take the blame if you want. Keeps Big Blue off my ass and the old man at bay when he returns.”

Which had of course been the wrong thing to say since Damian only came at him harder.

Jason liked to talk during battle, particularly if the battle was Bat-fam orientated, and seemingly Damian enjoyed nothing more than hissing and spitting, snarling up a storm as Jason got ‘catty’ with him.

And on a normal day- _night_ , things probably would not have taken a turn for the strange, but Jason was tired, and Damian had clearly been frustrated and in a particularly volatile mood.

So when the Batman’s voice, _Bruce’s_ voice barked from beside him:

“ _Jason, stand down!_ ”

He faltered, pausing in his assault to look over Damian’s shoulder, scanning the shadows behind him, only to have Damian’s fist hit home right in the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He fell backwards in a heap upon his back, sending the gravel upon the rooftop scattering in spray. He wheezed as he clutched his stomach, eyes flittering around wildly as he tried to pinpoint the man’s exact location.

Only…

Damian looked beyond smug as he towered over him, arms crossed with a smirk painted across his face, one that really kinda creeped Jason out, and made him want to smash his fist into the teen’s face.

“ _Really, Chum? And here I thought you were beyond falling for such tactics. Hnn_.” Damian huffed, smirk spreading into an unnerving grin, teeth visible between lips.

And Jason gaped, blinking as he struggled to catch his breath, completely and utterly mortified at this new discovery.

“You- you’re…did you just…”

“ _Indeed. I am a man of **many** talents, Jason._ ”

Whatever reaction Damian had been aiming for was lost to the wind, for Jason only stared up at him wide eyed, a look of horror on his face…but with crimson cheeks and a worried brow.

The Robin rose an eyebrow at the man and stepped closer, hands now on his hips as he stood above him, head the slightest bit tilted with intrigue over something he surely ad to be over reading.

“ _Is there something the matter, **Jason**?_ ” He murmured, leaning down towards the man a touch, a slight leer upon his face

And his suspicions were confirmed… Jason tensed, sucked in a sharp breath, and swallowed roughly as he fisted some of the gravel beneath his gloves.

He could have laughed, but he resisted the urge, instead dropping the act.

“Well… that explains your deep seated issues with Father, at the very least. He could have said as much, saved me, as well as the others _I’m sure_ , a lot of confusion and misunderstanding. Who could have guessed that your petty battles were nothing more than a common domestic dispute? Tt…”

Jason managed a growl, and swung himself forward, Damian only dodging the abrupt tackle by the skin of his teeth as he twisted out of reach. But instead of pursuing the matter further, and rounding on the boy, he simply sped off across the rooftops, leaving Damian to stare after him, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

For he was not quite done yet.

Not at all.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jason was still raging as he entered his safe house, slamming the window frame shut in frustration, the glass vibrating as he stormed away from it. He ripped his jacket off his shoulders with practiced ease, tossing it into the nearest corner, and exhaled a harsh breath he didn’t know he was holding as some of his pocket contents scattered across the floor.

Damian should not have been able to get under his skin so easily. That alone was frustrating as fuck. But the sounds, the voice coming from the Robin’s lips had thrown him so far off he had not been able to recover.

And then the belittlement had come and he had seen red…

What he and Bruce had had once upon a time… it was no one’s business.

And he didn’t need Damian, Bruce’s _son_ of all people, using his damned voice while purposely talking to him like _that_.

His bed was welcoming, beckoning him as he shuffled towards it, hopping as he pulled his boots off and tossed them god only knows where as he flung them off into the darkness. He paused just before it to pry his body armor off his form when it had happened. Admittedly, he had not been paying much attention with how flustered and frustrated he had been, and was now highly regretting it as boots collided with his chest, and he flipped onto and over the opposite side of the bed.

His head bounced off the wood floor hard enough for him to see stars, and he lay dazed, arms tangled within his not quite removed suit behind his back, legs still draped ungracefully over the edge of the bed as Damian stared down at him from his perch upon it.

“On your feet, _Todd_. I was not finished with our discussion…” He hissed, kicking Jason’s legs so they joined him in his heap upon the floor.

He winced as he sat up, wrenching a hand free from its sleeve and brushing his fingers over the back of his head in effort to check for any dampness, any sign that the fall had done more than bruise his ego further.

“The fuck are you doing in here brat?” He’d been aiming for a growl, but it left his lips more a groan as he cradled the back of his head.

“You neglected to avoid being shadowed, then sub sequentially forgot to set your locks, and alarms upon entry. You were practically inviting me for a visit.” He sniffed, watching as Jason attempted to right himself as he stood, top half of his suit dangling around his waist.

“I’m tired, over worked, and was trying to get as far away from you and your taunting bullshit as possible. Excuse me if I overlooked a few things!” He snarled, grabbing a fistful of the Robin’s cape. “But that doesn’t mean you get to slip into my safe haven and send me head first into the floor you little shit!” and he tugged, wrenching Damian off his feet, sending him tumbling to the floor.

And that started a chain reaction.

Jason’s feet were swept out from beneath him.

Damian took an elbow to the gut.

Jason’s forehead ended up slammed into the nightstand.

And they carried on as such for several long, drawn out minutes until it ended with Jason’s fist colliding with Damian’s face, and the teen hit the wall behind him with a shelf shaking thud.

The two sat stunned for a brief moment, Jason’s eyes wide as Damian lifted a hand to his lips and wiped away the blood bubbling to the surface.

“If that had been my nose you would be dead Todd…” The boy muttered, sucking on his bottom lip as he pushed away from the wall.

Jason only managed an amused snort before Damian was forcing him back into the fray, slamming him face first into the mattress with a fistful of is hair. Jason thrashed beneath him, cursing him, as he attempted to reach back and grab hold of him long enough to wrench himself free. Damian tsked and leaned forward, putting his weight into the knees pinning the man by his back, and moved in close to the Hood’s ear.

“ _And here I thought you **liked** being bent over, **Jay** …_”

And if Damian had been searching for outrage, he got the exact opposite with his choice of voice and words.

The man beneath him gasped, bucking against the mattress, and froze.

An awkward silence erupted briefly thereafter, Damian frozen, eyes wide, while Jason lay stiff beneath him.

“Back the fuck off… now Damian.” The response came suddenly, breaking the silence, a guarded, breathy demand, and Damian faltered just long enough for Jason to throw him off and back away down the bed.

The teen watched him closely from across the room as the man caught his breath, one hand fisted in the comforter, the other grasping his face.

Neither moved for some time, Jason lost within his own head, and Damian assessing the situation in fine detail.

It was Damian that made the first move, crossing the distance between them. Jason did not notice the approach until the teen’s knees touched down upon the bed, and then he stiffened, backing up against the headboard as he glared at the boy

“I told you to _get out_.”

“And I do not recall a time where I have _ever_ listened to one of you _suggestions_ , Todd.” He huffed, stopping in front of the man. “Besides, how was I to know that you would react so… strongly?

“Fuck yo-“

“ ** _Make me_**.” He declared, a smirk planted on across his face as he borrowed his father’s voice yet again, blood dribbling down his chin obscenely and coating his teeth.

And Jason growled, reacting without thinking as he lunged forward to close the short distance between them, lapping at Damian’s crimson coated lips and clinking their teeth together as he attacked his swollen mouth. If Damian was at all shocked that Jason took the bait, he never showed it and recovered quickly, shoving the man back flesh against the headboard. He dug his nails into the man’s shoulder, relished at the hiss the action coaxed from his lips, and shuddered as Jason grabbed a fistful of his hair in response.

He groaned, quite nearly a purr as he pushed forward, forcing his tongue into Jason’s mouth. He was met with little resistance, the man’s fingers twisting in his hair, the other hand gripping his thigh, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his bruised and aching lips.

Abruptly, Jason seemed to come back to himself and released his grip, pushing against Damian’s chest to recreate some of the distance between them that had existed previously.

“Damian… _Baby_ -bat, we…” He panted, keeping the teen at bay as he attempted to reclose that distance. “We shouldn’t be-“

Damian only huffed, thrusting Jason’s arm aside so he could slide forward and graze his teeth against the man’s throat.

“No we _should_ …” He murmured, skirting a hand down to brush against the hair just below Jason’s belly button. “Definitely should. I for one am in need of some practice…”

“…practice?” He groaned, turning his gaze from Damian’s form as the boy’s hands snuck beneath the lower half of his suit.

“Mmm practice. Would not want to disappoint, at a later date…” He insisted, latching onto Jason’s clavicle, sucking a deep burgundy mark into it before pulling away. “ _And I am beginning to think that being pounded into the sheets would be **very** beneficial to you, Jay_.”

And Jason’s body couldn’t agree more, hips snapping forward to thrust himself into Damian’s fist.

He could feel his face burn as he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see the teen’s face as Damian pumped at him slowly, brushing his thumb over the head, teasing at the slit. He forced himself to think elsewhere, anything to forget that this was _Damian_ , Damian who was still all of fifteen, and very much _not_ the owner of the voice currently whispering words of encouragement in his ear.

Damian’s tongue invaded his mouth once more, far more startling with his eyes shut, unable to see it coming, but despite that fact he panted into the boy’s mouth as Damian sucked at his tongue and squeezed at his shaft.

The situation was all sorts of wrong. He didn’t even really like the kid, and Damian sure as hell was not fond of him, not particularly fond of anyone beside Dick... Alfred perhaps being the lone exception, and that was questionable at best.

And yet…

Damian removed his hand, and pressed closer, close enough that Jason could feel each exhale expand the teen’s chest, close enough that he could feel Damian’s pulse racing with the contact.

“What…what would you like me to do?” Damian’s breath was hot on his throat as he asked, hand creeping up Jason’s chest, settling at his shoulder.

 _Nothing_. That’s what he wanted. He should end it now, toss the kid aside, tell him to run home to ‘Golden Boy’ and try and get his rocks off there instead of using him as some damned guinea pig…

“ ** _Jason_**.” Bru… _Damian_ commanded, pressing teeth to his carotid and squeezing, forcing another gasp from his lips and jerk of his hips.

He couldn’t think straight, could only grind his hips upward against Damian’s, relishing in the friction it created, and the deep guttural groan that sounded from the others lips in response.

If he kept his eyes closed, he didn’t have to admit to himself what this really was, not yet.

It wasn’t the first time he had indulged in a _fake_ , a mere shadow of what Bruce was- _is_ …what made this any different? And yet, right there, Damian made all the difference. Damian essentially _was_ Bruce, a part of him anyway. They shared DNA, features, and currently a voice… whilst Hush simply wore a mask of Bruce’s face. Eyes the wrong shade of blue, facial expressions all wrong… and never said the _right_ things the _right_ way… but at the time, he had enjoyed it, given in to it, unwilling to accept that Bruce was ‘dead’ at the time. It had been the only comfort he could seek.

Now, if he kept his eyes shut, ignored the size difference that had gradually been dissipating over the last few years (with time Damian would surely be as large as his father), Damian could _almost_ be the real thing, close enough anyway.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Shouldn’t be fumbling beneath his mattress. Shouldn’t be pressing the half empty tube into Damian’s hands nor be helping him tug the remainder of his suit down his ankles. He most definitely should not be muffling squeaks and half sobs within Damian’s neck as graceful fingers pumped in and out of him, crooking and stretching as he writhed beneath him.

He should not be enjoying _anything_.

But he was.

Damian kept talking, kept using the voice that was not his to use, murmuring anything and everything into his ears.

He hadn’t even realized that Damian had stripped down to nothing until he was draped across him, running his free hand down his side, teasing at one of his nipples, forcing a moan from Jason’s lips.

Damian slipped the hand between his legs, grasping hold of his thigh to spread them further, before settling between them and rocking against his cock in time with the thrust of his fingers.

Then all at once, the fingers retreated from his body and he whined at the loss, gripping at one of Damian’s solders. The teen chuckled against neck, nuzzling against the flesh before clasping it between his teeth.

“ _You’re being so good Jason, **so good** …_” Damian growled, nipping at his lower lip, and swiping over it with his tongue.

And Jason could only gasp and buck as Damian pressed against his entrance, slipping in slowly as he clenched around him. He arched his back, wrapped his legs around him, and keened as Damian set an irregular, fast, _hard_ pace.

He found himself clinging, arms wrapped tightly around Damian’s neck as he twitched and shuddered with each thrust, dripping and coating the teen’s abdomen in precum.

He shouldn’t be so aroused, so helpless and needy beneath him, but he found that he no longer cared.

“This is… I- _ngh_ …” He tried to form words but they escaped him as Damian’s fingers ghosted over his head.

“Naturally, I excel at _everything_.” The Robin groaned, picking the pace, snapping his hips forward without abandon.

“Says the one who… who claimed to need _practice_ …” Jason gasped, squeezing him between his thighs, no longer even able to care about which voice was sounding from above, too far gone for it to matter much anymore.

“ _Tt_.”

It wasn’t perfect, nor remotely what he wanted… and he _knew_ he was being used but- _well_ what else was new? But as things stood, right now, with Damian slamming into him, grinding up against his prostate murmuring nonsense in that sweet, sweet voice…. He could almost pretend, almost visualize that it was Bruce and _not_ his son, and he was content for the time being.

Hell, truth be told, _he_ was using the boy as much as he was using him.

The self-loathing that would come from it would occur later, long after Damian inevitably left him to return home to Dick, a man that wouldn’t dare touch him until he was of age for purely moral reasons.

They were simply making due with each other, unable to have the one truly, deeply wanted.

It wasn’t healthy, not at all, but for just a little while… he wanted to be able to pretend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: The Prequel
> 
> -x-x-x-
> 
> He had seen the man in the news. Spat his tea all over himself.
> 
> Put a few holes in the wall.
> 
> Well… perhaps more than a few.
> 
> -x-x-x-
> 
> TommyJay, BruJay

He was a glutton for punishment. That much Jason could be sure of. Constantly, without fail, he returned to Gotham. He returned to the polluted smog, the criminal filled streets, and he returned… returned to _him_.

He let Bruce stomp his heart to pieces, let his anger get the best of him, and ultimately he let himself run wild… _snap_ , make himself regret so very much…

And then yet again, like _always_ , he would run like the coward he truly was.

Time after time. An endless vicious cycle of suffering.

But now?

Things were different. _Wrong_. And it hurt, so painfully, gut-wrenchingly so.

Bruce was _dead_.

Permanently? Not likely. If he, who was nothing compared to Bruce, could come back to life, drag himself out of his own damn grave, and jump back into the fray… then Bruce sure as hell would as well. The man would find a way. He was far too stubborn to let something such as death defeat him.

Still, that didn’t change things… not at all. Bruce was still gone.

_DEAD_.

And no one could blame him for being unable to cope with that.

No one could blame him for being angry, for being hurt- _appalled_ and angry that the man would break that little bit of trust and bring up his past in death to try and scare him straight.

And surely he could not be blamed for his current position, nor his choice of company, or utter lack of body armor.

Lack of _anything_ for that matter…

Jason whined as calloused hands ran up his thighs, sweat slickened and sticky, gripping at him with just-right painful force and all he could do was sigh as he was coaxed roughly away from his own thoughts. A hand retreated briefly and returned with a crack as it collided with a cheek, wrenching a groan from his throat, the burning sting resonating long after the strike.

There were so many things wrong with this situation, and he was well aware of that, he wasn’t even trying to lie to himself.

He had seen the man in the news. Spat his tea all over himself.

Put a few holes in the wall.

Well… perhaps more than a _few_.

He had gotten angry, beyond _pissed_ as he found out the truth of the situation, who was behind that oh so familiar mask of living flesh. He had wanted to claw Hush’s fake _unnatural_ face off, put a bullet between his eyes, and be sure he went out in a blazing inferno… he settled for putting his steel toed boot through the television screen instead.

Getting Thomas Elliot away from the Leagers keeping a close watch on him had been difficult. Not impossible, but it had been more trouble than it was worth… at first.

He drugged him. Kidnapped the man, _and_ his chauffer, drove them all around the city before he ultimately abandoned the limo and driver at the docks. Had dragged the unconscious man to one of his less used safe houses. Waited patiently for him to awaken. And when Hush had finally come back to the land of living, he did so violently, spitting vicious threats after realizing what had happened, and who his captor was.

The fight that resulted was none too pretty, and Jason was sure he would be cleaning up the mess from that event alone for days, let alone the additional filth they had created afterwards.

He was angry. Unfortunately that made him careless. Stupid. Weak…

Thomas Elliot cut to bleed, with precision, and by the end of the brawl he was halfway to another mental breakdown while simultaneously popping a shoulder back into place. Hush was no idiot. His reactions, past and present, were enough to give him away… and that was how they had gotten to the present.

He shouldn’t have been careless, let his guard down, but it was too late to be worrying about such things. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, could not fight… and Tommy- when had they gotten to names? _Elliot_ knew he had won, and was hell bent on rubbing it in his face… or rather, _against_ his prostate, if the fingers curling against the bundle of nerves were to be taken seriously.

He was disgusted with himself for enjoying it so much, for bucking back against the touch, rutting against the desk he was bent over. But it was great, too much really, far more than he had gotten from the real thing in the longest of times, and as things stood he was willing to take what he could get. Because Bruce was _gone_ , and one night of not having to think about that, of not wanting to tear his hair out and scream in anguish, was _worth_ it.

He was putty in the doctor’s hands, cheek pressed into the worn wood, nails digging into the chipped varnish as the man coaxed mewls and whines from his throat as he stretched him. The burn was not an unwelcome feeling, and the man seemed to just know exactly how rough he liked it as he spread his thighs further apart and forced a _fourth_ digit within.

When Tommy began talking, spewing crude things into his ear as he kept him pinned flat upon the desktop, he kept enough ‘Bruce’ in his voice to make his knees week and thighs tremble, while being enough of himself to remind the younger man it was all a ruse.

After all, what fun would it be for _him_ if Jason could just let himself go and pretend, another man in his mind, and the wrong name upon his lips? No, he couldn’t have that.

“Beg for it.” Tommy purred, free hand running over the curve of his ass.

He squeezed lightly, making Jason’s breath hitch and body shudder.

Jason only bared his teeth and glared back over his shoulder at the man in defiance.

Elliot sighed tutting at the younger man.

“So stubborn… you are the one who abducted _me_ , brought me ‘ _home_ ’, and started this. Laid their panting like a bitch in heat craving it.”

And he had, he really had… he hadn’t anticipated having such a large reaction from being pinned to the dusty floor on his back with the older man kneeling atop his thighs.

It was all the face.

That _fucking_ face.

He had flushed, panting in exhaustion, adrenalin pumping through his veins, and Tommy had shifted ever so slightly to get a tighter hold and-

The moan he had let loose had been _involuntary_ dammit!

And things had spiraled out of control from there, all the while an eerie smirk had been plastered across Hush’s borrowed face, and he had been left helpless as the man squeezed his cock through the kevlar lined jeans and he quickly lost his mind. Flash forward, and he had ended up thrown against his own damn furniture, stark naked with the man teasing his flesh and torturing him with his doppelganger form.

Now the man was merely humming to himself, a hand pressed firmly on the back of Jason’s neck to restrict movement, with a sadistic smirk set upon his face.

“Could have told me no at any time, yet here you are splayed out before me, twitching and making a mess of your dilapidated desk. Not that it matters much when the finish is beyond repair and smeared with grease…” He muttered, trailing off. “Still, _Hood_ … I think before I give you any satisfaction, you’re going to have to _work_ for it, and I _told_ you to beg for it like the stray dog you are.”

And like _hell_ he would.

He turned his head just slightly, enough so that he could look the man dead in the eye as he grinned madly at him, all before he spat in his face.

He supposed he should have anticipated the face slam that resulted thereafter as Tommy shifted his grip to his hair in the blink of an eye and retaliated. He was pretty sure the bridge of his nose was going to bruise, even if it _had_ miraculously avoided gushing.

He found himself incapable of voicing his hatred almost immediately, insults on his lips dying off as the man wrapped his fist around his length and pumped him slowly, but firmly. All he could manage was a gasp as he snapped his hips forward with a sharp jerk.

“Fuck, I- _ngh_ …” He keened, back tensing up as he clawed uselessly at the smooth surface of the desk.

Tommy chuckled behind him, and Jason wished he was in a proper position to knee the man in the balls.

“It seems my methods of coercion appeal to you, hmm?” He cooed mockingly. “Now how about it _Todd_?”

Jason could do little more than mewl as Tommy picked up the pace and tugged roughly at his hair.

And _motherfuck_ \- he let out a whine as Tommy’s hand retreated altogether… and that? That wasn’t fair at all.

“I-“ he protested, panting as he arched back towards the man.

“Say it.” It was no less demanding that earlier, but it sent him flinching, cock twitching against his stomach. “ _Jason_!”

But his name, the command, Hush barked it out in such a way that all he could think of was Bruce, and before he could even stop himself he was rambling, begging and pleading, and he got his wish.

Elliot wasted no time with teasing there on out, entering him with a quick slam of hips, and a bite to the shoulder as he tugged Jason’s head back.

Jason was no longer capable of thinking as he gripped at the edges of the desk, bucking back against the snap of hips as he cried out and moaned, Tommy whispering dark words of encouragement and praise into his ear as he took and gave the younger man what he wished.

When all was said and done, no names were shouted as either of the two came, no tender loving aftercare resulted, and no words were said as the man pulled away to admire his work.

Thomas Elliot straightened himself, wiped the cum glistening on his flesh off with Jason’s armored shirt, and simply pulled his slacks back up around his waist.

“It’s been fun Hood, really, but your dysfunctional family will be out on a war path looking for me thanks to you, so I really ought to be leaving now. I do hope you understand…”

Jason didn’t bother turning, just simply laid splayed across the surface he’d been pressed against, eyes shut tight.

“I hope the little demon cuts your damn head off…”

At this Tommy only chuckled.

“I’m afraid that’s not likely. Brat finds me intriguing.” And with that… Hush left the run down flat, leaving Jason alone with his self-hatred.

Later, when he finally had the will to move, Jason showered. The ice-cold unheated water left him shivering long after he’d pulled most of his gear back on. He left the kevlar top laying on ground as his pulled his jacket on and zipped it up.

As he later left to regroup with Sasha, the building blazed in the background, a towering infernal he never wished to lay eyes upon again...

 


End file.
